


The Beatle-Making Prince Of Pop

by sunflower_beatles



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M, The Beatles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_beatles/pseuds/sunflower_beatles
Summary: TRIGGER WARNINGS*****SEXUAL HARASSMENT MENTIONS AND SUICIDE MENTIONS THROUGHOUT STORY*****





	1. Chapter 1

*John’s POV*

“Really, now, Paul?” I say with a mouthful of toast and jam. 

“Ye, really! That’s what I just said, hm?” Paul retorts, pouring cream into his coffee.

I swallow my food. “There’s no way ye got her in bed. No. Way.”

“Well, I did. You’re just jealous. Isn’t he, Bri?”

Brian looks up from the newspaper he’s reading, grins slightly, and says, “I think John’s jealous because he hasn’t gotten anybody in bed for a full week.”

“I am not! If ye really think I need that kind of-”

“Mr. Epstein, here is your check.”

I turn towards the voice and see our smoking hot waitress handing Eppy the check for our meal. I can feel Paul’s eyes on me as I say to her, “Hello. Care for a drink with me sometime?”

The waitress curls her lips at me and quickly walks away. Paul breaks into fits of laughter. “Whatssa matter, Johnny? Lost your charm, have you?” Even Brian has a smirk on his face, but his eyes tell me he feels sorry for me. I shrug a little and finish my toast.

*Brian’s POV*

The way John’s smile turned down when he was rejected by that waitress nearly broke my heart. And certainly not because he wouldn’t be getting a girl in bed. Heavens, no. More because I hate to see him sad. I’ve spent many nights listening to the sounds of him crying in the hotel showers where he thinks nobody can hear him. It pains me that I don’t know why he gets so sad sometimes.

I fancy him, that’s for sure. I think he suspects it, too. He, thankfully, isn’t repulsed by homosexuality like so many others are. Sometimes I even think maybe he fancies me, too, as more than a business partner or a friend.

Ah, who am I kidding. The man’s got a wife and a kid.

But I certainly would not pass up the opportunity to have a little hook-up with him… 

*John’s POV*

After the breakfast fiasco, we head back up to our hotel room and hunker down. This is what my life is like now. We stay locked up in our hotel all day long and only come out in the evening to go to parties. If we left our hotel, we’d be mobbed by screaming fans and we could get injured. This lifestyle should be ending soon enough, though. 

Ringo and George, who haven’t been feeling all that well, greet us at the door. “‘Ello, lads,” Ringo said wearily as we enter the room. “Anything interesting happen at breakfast?”  
I hear Paul snicker behind me. “No, nothing,” I say cooly, flopping down on the bed next to George and lighting a smoke.

Ringo gives Paul and I a strange look, then crawls into his bed and continues watching whatever’s on TV. I don’t really pay attention and I don’t laugh when Ringo and George do. I just stare up at the ceiling and smoke my cigarette. I can feel Brian’s concerned eyes on me from the plush chair where he sat, scanning me for the reason I’m sad. I wish I could tell him that I don’t know why I’m down, either.

*FLASHBACK*

One quiet night after a show about two years ago, I was laying in bed in our hotel room, bunking with Brian. The other three boys were fast asleep. I was about to drift off to sleep as well when I felt a hand on my stomach. I immediately tensed up. It was Brian. 

His fingers traced up my bare chest under the covers and along my jaw. I held my breath, not daring to move. Slowly he turned my face towards where he lay in bed. My heart pounded as I saw him smiling at me, his eyes shimmering in the dim light. He shifted forward and then his lips were on mine and his hand tangled into my hair, pressing my face onto his. 

An alarm bell went off in my head. I could feel his other hand sliding down my torso very slowly. I snapped to action, realizing exactly what was happening. I brought my knee up and hit him where it really hurt. He stifled a squeal and pulled away from me. I quickly climbed out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom.

Shaking, I pulled on a shirt, left the room and spent the night down in the hotel’s bar, too shaken up to go back upstairs. When Ringo and Paul came looking for me the next morning, they’d found me passed out drunk in the lobby.

*END OF FLASHBACK*

To this day I still don’t ever bunk with Brian. The only one who will is George, but Brian doesn’t fancy him like he does me. It isn’t awkward between us now like it was for a couple months after the incident. I just disregard it as Eppy feeling touch-starved. 

But… I’m not gonna lie, I stupidly sometimes wish I hadn’t pushed him off… Whatever. I’m sure it’s just my hormones acting up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRAPHIC R*PE SCENE! don't read if you're triggered by r*pe

*Brian’s POV*  
I have known John Lennon for nearly six years, and not once have I looked him in the eyes and not felt the pang of admiration in my chest, or the tickling butterflies in my stomach, or the flutter of my heart. Not once have I accidentally brushed against him and not felt the electricity sparking from the point of contact, racing all over my body. And not ONCE have I ever thought of him and not felt utter affection towards him.

But not once have I ever seen any signs that he returns the feelings.

That night, two-ish years ago, was a turning point in our friendship, when I was simply feeling so, so desperate for the touch of another human being, not even him specifically, when I freaked him out so much that he left for the bar and got immensely drunk. It was the event that made him wary of me, that made him almost AFRAID of me. I saw it in his eyes when he sobered up and noticed me for the first time after the incident. His eyes widened, and he looked away quickly. A wave of depression spread over me and I ran into the bathroom and tried to cry but nothing came out except gasps. It broke me that I’d hurt him.

And now I’ve somewhat gotten over that boy. I do still feel the butterflies and the electricity if he accidentally touches me. That hasn’t changed. But I don't tear myself up over it. He’s got a wife and a kid and he’s quite happy with them. Or so he seems.

*John’s POV*

After dinner, we settle in for the night. George and Paul are still out. I flick the bathroom light on to brush my teeth. Ringo walks up next to me and takes out his shaving bag. He begins spreading shaving cream on his cheeks. “So,” he says. 

I glance at him in the mirror. “So?”

“So. What happened at breakfast?” he asks casually. 

I freeze. “Richie, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He pauses and smirks at me. “Sure ye do. I can tell ye do.”

I squirt toothpaste on my toothbrush and stick it in my mouth. “Nope.”

He goes back to his shaving. I brush and spit. My heart rate returns to normal. Life goes on. 

Why did I freeze up so much when Ringo asked me what happened? I usually can tell him anything. He’s a great listener. Why couldn’t I just tell him?

“Well, actually…”

“Ha. See, I KNEW ye wanted to tell me. Go on, go on,” he says, jerking his arm and nearly cutting his cheek with the razor. 

“Careful there, mate,” I say, getting out my shaving bag. “I asked out the breakfast waitress and she declined me.”

He snorts. “THAT’S why yer so upset? Gee, Lennon, I expected-” I cut him off.

“That’s not what made me sad, Richie.”

“Alright, then, let’s hear it!”

I swallow down the butterflies in my stomach, lower my voice, and say, “Can ye keep a secret, Richie?”

“Yeah, yeah, of cour-“ I cut him off again. 

“I mean, ye can’t tell even George and Paul. And especially not Eppy.”

He frowns. “Sure, Johnny, I can do that. Now please, tell me. Yer worrying me.”

“Okay.” Deep breath, exhale through the nose. Just say it, Lennon. “I fancy Brian.”

He sputters, almost cutting his lip. “Ye WHAT?” 

“Shhh! He’ll hear, shut it!” I hiss, turning to make sure the door is closed. “Yes, I fancy him. Call me a pansy, call me a queer, but I do. There, are you happy now?” I ditch my shaving bag and storm out of the bathroom. 

Brian looks up from the book he’s reading when I flop on the bed, frustrated. “You alright, lad?”

My face is pressed into the sheets, and my voice is muffled when I speak. “No.”

I hear him stand up. “Come on, Lennon. Let’s go for a walk.”

I look up and he’s standing over me, holding out his hand. I sigh. “Alright,” I say, taking his hand. Brian’s arm jerks a little at my touch. His fingers are strong and warm as he pulls me up off the bed. Our eyes are level, our faces inches apart. His thighs touch mine. I really want to lean forward, just a bit, press my lips on his… 

Eppy lets go of my hand. “Alright, then, let’s go,” he says, walking out the door and down the hallway of the hotel. I follow him, watching his legs as he walks. His gait is really an admirable thing: he walks with such confidence. He presses his thumb to the elevator button and the doors open. We step inside.

As I stand in the elevator next to Eppy, my heart races. I shove my hands into my pockets and try not to shake with nerves.

“Where are ye taking me, Bri?” I ask him, crossing my arms over my chest.

He smiles to himself, thinking I can’t see him. “You’ll see.”

I’m quiet. I know he can feel my eyes on him.

The elevator dings and the doors open. He hurries out, dragging me by the hand, around to the back hallway in the hotel. He leads me into a one-person bathroom that must belong to the hotel staff. He hops up onto the wide sink and pats the spot next to him. I sit on the sink. Our legs are touching from ankle to hip.

“So,” he says. I roll my eyes. 

“Ringo said that too, ye know,” I say, leaning back and closing my eyes so my head is resting on the mirror. 

I can hear the smile in his posh British voice. “Did he really?”

“He sure did.”

He chuckles a little. “And what did you tell him?”

My heart rate speeds up. I lift my head and open my eyes. “I told him it was nothing.” I say coolly. 

“You’re lying,” Eppy says. He turns to me, his eyes sparkling. “You can tell me what’s really wrong, John. I won’t judge you.”

My palms begin to sweat. My thoughts race as I debate telling him. What’s there to lose?

“Ye really wanna know?” I ask, wincing when my voice cracks with nerves.

Eppy chuckles again. “I do.”

Deep breath, Lennon. Just spit it out.

“I fancy you, Bri.”

He pauses, the smile fading from his face. Great, now he hates me. He’s silent. I can practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You… fancy me?” His voice is shy and unsure.

“Yeah, ain’t that what I just said, hm?” I crack a smile, and Eppy does too.

“You really fancy me? Really?” He’s smiling real big now.

“Yes, I do!”

Eppy’s eyes gleam. “Then, I’m sure you won’t mind if I do this.” He leans close to me and presses his lips to mine. I’m startled at first, then I close my eyes and kiss him back. He reaches his hand up and cups my chin, kissing harder. I part my lips just slightly and in comes his tongue, exploring my mouth. 

Eppy’s kisses become harder as he gets into it. I reach up and tangle my hands into his hair, pushing him closer to me, wanting him. He bites my lip with his teeth. A shudder goes through my body. He pulls away. “Not good?” he asks, his blue eyes concerned.

I look away, and then back at him with a small smile. “It’s good,” I say, and in response he begins working on a love bite on my neck. I sigh a little. The man I fancy is finally mine, so why do I feel so uncomfortable? Whatever.

Bri’s lips are on mine again. His hand is fumbling with the buttons on my shirt, the other hand on the back of my neck. I place my hand on his and break the kiss. He looks me in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re alright?” I bite my lip and nod. He smiles. “That’s my boy.” 

He hops down off the sink and stands between my legs. He loosens the last buttons on my shirt and I undo his. I can see his smooth chest. Is this really happening right now?  
He pushes me back gently so my head is resting against the mirror. Eppy tosses his clothes in the corner of the bathroom. He looks me in the eyes with a little grin on his wet lips. He’s looking at me hungrily when-

“Hello? Anyone in there?”

A knock. A voice. From outside the door.

Brian freezes. He stands up straight, clears his throat, and says in a perfect American accent, “Occupied.”

Whoever was out there walks away. Eppy turns back to me, smiling sensuously. He takes my hands and places them on his crotch. I can feel him through his pants, feel how hard he is.

Eppy moves my hands to his belt buckle and I begin undoing it. My eyes stay on his the whole time as he bites his lip. He slips off the pants and kicks them aside. He’s fully naked now. When did that happen? He climbs up onto the sink, straddling me. Just then I realize what he’s about to do, and my chest seizes. I don’t want this no no no speak up Lennon he’ll get his way no I’ve lost my voice- And he does it anyways, moans escaping his lips, and time speeds up and slows down at the same time and I’m panting and sweaty and in full fledged panic STOP THIS and he’s hurting me and his eyes are wild and he stops - hops off the sink - dripping - smiles - kisses my lips once - whispers, “I liked that, John,” - my hands are shaking-

“N-no,” I croak.

Eppy looks at me. “What do you mean, no? You were moaning and everything. C’mon, it’s alright-”

“No.” I find my voice. “No, no, no.”

He frowns and hops off the sink. His eyes are sad. “I’m sorry I couldn’t please you, John. I just want to make you happy.” He pulls on his clothes and leaves the bathroom.

I sit on the sink, a sticky mess, and I turn on the water so no one can hear me cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is like,,,, really sad  
> so i apologize if i make anybody cry :,)

*Brian’s POV*

I… I hurt him. 

He’ll never forgive me. 

The one person in this world I truly love thinks I’m a monster. 

I didn’t know he didn’t want it. 

He didn’t speak up. 

I should’ve asked him before I did it. 

I shouldn’t have even taken him out of the hotel room. We’re technically not even allowed out in case we meet any fans. 

But I did it anyways. 

I can never forgive myself. 

I have taken so many pills in the past three days. I’ve only slept four hours in the last seventy-two. John has ignored me. Ringo, George, and Paul don’t know what’s gotten me so down, and they don’t bother to ask. Shows how much they care, huh? I’m pathetic. I’ve hurt the boy I love, and with that I leave everything I’ve ever known. 

*John’s POV*

I avoid Brian as much as possible until three days later. I constantly toss around the idea of going to see him. He’s got his own hotel room in this new hotel, and eventually I go visit him to apologize. I go at one o’clock in the morning, so no one will see me. I knock on the door, taking a deep breath. 

“Go away,” he says from inside. His voice sounds weary and sad. 

“Brian, please let me in,” I say, knocking again. 

“I said go away.”

I sigh. “Please, I really need to talk to ye.”

He’s silent, and I’m about to turn and go back to my room when the door opens with a billowing cloud of cigarette smoke. There stands Brian. 

“Brian, I…” My voice trails off. 

“I look awful, I know,” he says, running a hand through his greasy hair. His eyes are bloodshot and there are dark circles underneath. He’s still wearing the same clothes he’d tossed into the corner of the bathroom that night. He looks like he hasn’t showered in months. And I can’t look at him the same way after what happened. 

“Come in, then, don’t just stand there staring.” Eppy opens the door wider and I walk in. His room is a mess: there are pill bottles - both full and empty - everywhere. Dirty clothes are strewn on all surfaces.

He sits down on the unmade bed. “Why are you here, Lennon?”

I sit on the cluttered desk in the corner. “I just wanted to come tell ye-“

“You know what, save it. I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

“Wh-“

“I know I’ve hurt you. I know you didn’t want it. I didn’t know you didn’t until after it was done. But our partnership can never be the same, can it?” He smiles sadly, taking a swig from a bottle of unidentifiable liquid. “It can’t.”

His tone gets on my nerves, and I snap. “Ye wanna be that way? Fine. Be that way. See if I care. See if I care about you at ALL.”

He stands up off the bed and stumbles over to me. “I thought you LOVED ME, LENNON.” His voice cracks on my name. 

“I did, at least at one point. But ye’ve hurt me. Ye- ye ASSAULTED me. Ye can go to PRISON for that, if I reported ye!”

Bri shoves me, and my head hits the wall behind the desk and I see stars. “HEY!” I yell, raising my fist and WHAM! It connects with his jaw. He stumbles, falling on the bed, clutching his face. I breathe heavily, staring at him, a tiny part of me guilty for hitting him but the anger and adrenaline coursing through my veins consumes me and blocks out all other thoughts. He looks up at me with tears welling in his eyes. I spin around and leave the room, slamming the door behind me. 

*Brian’s POV*

And with that I leave everything I’ve ever known. 

*The next day; John’s POV*

I rise from bed early with the rest of the boys. I stumble into the bathroom and lock the door before the lads can barge in. I look at my face in the mirror. My red eyes have dark circles under them. I look like Brian. I wince when the memories of last night come flooding back. He hurt me, and I hurt him — it’s even now, right? I tell myself this, but I still feel like crap about it. There’s a knock on the door. 

“John? Please, come out, something’s happened.” It’s Ringo. 

I open the door. “What.”

Ringo’s standing there, somehow smaller than usual. “Um, it’s bad. You’d better just- just come see it.”

He leads me out the hotel room and down the hall. We turn a corner and there are police swarming everywhere — in front of Brian’s room. My heart stops. 

“No,” I say. I push my way through the crowd, leaving Ringo behind, and then I’m in his room. I see the desk where he’d shoved me. I can feel my pulse in the bruise on the back of my head. I turn the corner towards the bed and—

Oh my god. 

E-Eppy… 

He’s laid out on his bed. Silent, not moving. His arms folded peacefully over his chest. A bruise on his jaw where I’d hit him. More empty pill bottles than there were last night. I can’t even cry. I just freeze. Staring at him. I did this. This is my fault. Oh my god he’s dead he’s gone I’m gonna throw up—

I run into the bathroom and hurl into the toilet. But nothing comes out. I dry heave for a few minutes and then the tears start. I weep like I’ve never weeped before. Screaming too. My throat is raw. I feel a metallic hand on my shoulder and it’s Ringo and all his rings. He crouches down next to me and holds me while my body racks with sobs. He whispers “Shhh…” in my ear over and over, takes my glasses off, dries my tears. Eventually he picks me up and carries me back to our hotel room. 

Some time later, I wake up. For one blissful moment, I’m calm. Nothing is wrong. And then it hits me. Brian is dead because of me.

Ringo sees me stirring and rushes over. “Hey, Johnny,” he says, his rings clinking on a glass of water that he hands me. I sip, swallow, hurt. “How are you feeling?”

There is a sharp stabbing pain somewhere inside me. I can’t name the location, and I can’t describe how it feels. It’s just there. And I know it will never go away.

“I’m fine.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Yer clearly not fine, mate,” Ringo says, taking the glass from me. I sigh. 

“It’s my fault he’s dead, Richie.”

He blinks, once, twice. “How so?”

Flashes of memory dart through my mind: the look in Eppy’s eyes as he unbuttoned my shirt, slamming the door behind his hotel room, seeing his body lying on the bed. 

“I don’t think I can talk about it.”

He smiled sadly and takes my hand. “I understand, mate,” he says, the metal of his rings cold on my fingers. “The police are gonna wanna talk to ye, tho.”

I sigh again. “Yeah, I know.” They’ll ask me if I knew if anything was going on with him, and I’ll lie and say no and feel worse about it but it would hurt more to open up about what really happened. They’ll tell me they know I was the last person to see him alive. I’ll tell them that he seemed just fine. Deep down I’ll know I shouldn’t lie, especially to the fuzz, but if that kind of news got out… who knows what it’d do to our reputation.

Ringo stands up. “Well, ye think yer ready to go for a little walk around? I think ye passed out earlier because of shock.”

I nod, and he helps me up, his strong hands gripping my elbows as I rose out of bed. And then I was standing. 

“Feel okay?” Ringo asks.

I nod. “Gotta piss.”

He smirks and helps me into the bathroom. I unzip my pants and stand over the toilet and all I can think about is Brian. He crowds my thoughts like the swarm of policemen outside his room. I feel like a robot, my actions powered by someone or something besides me. I bite my lip hard to stop from sobbing. I taste blood.

I can’t think of anything except him. 

I dab up the blood on my lip with a tissue and open the door. There’s Ringo, waiting for me outside the door. He smiles at me. “Feel better?” 

I feel the corners of my mouth turn up. “Yeah.”

He helps me back to the bed, and sits next to me there. His leg touches mine, just like Eppy’s did. I slide over a bit so he’s not touching me.

“John, what happened when ye and him went out of the room?” 

My muscles tense. If I tell him, he’ll know how weak I am. And he’ll tell the fuzz, and- 

“Nothing, mate. We just talked.”

He gives me a look. “I know yer lying.”

My heart practically stops. Did he find out? Did Brian tell him?

“But I’m not going to probe, because I can see yer uncomfortable.”

I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. 

-

Later that day the police came by our hotel room. They asked me all kinds of questions, and when they asked if I knew that Eppy had been suicidal, I told them no. That wasn’t a lie. But pretty much everything else I’d said was. 

*Ringo’s POV*

It really hurts me to see John in this much pain. I don’t know what happened between him and Eppy, but clearly it has something to do with his death. And I know when John is ready, he’ll open up to me. 

I miss Eppy, too. I don’t know how we’re gonna continue as good a career without him as we’d had with him. He was really, truly amazing. But John seemed to have the closest connection with him out of the four of us. And it’s no secret that Eppy fancied John. 

Ah-hah! I know what happened the night they left our hotel room. Brian must’ve come onto him, and been rejected. 

*John’s POV*

I spend the next few days in bed, most of the time sleeping, other times shrouded by my own memories. I simply can’t stand the thought of getting up and facing a world without Brian in it. Ringo shares the room with me, and he checks in on me every couple hours. Really, I’m quite grateful to have such a loyal friend in such a time of pain. 

On my second day in bed, I ask him to bring me a notepad and pencil. He does, and when my pencil starts, it doesn’t stop for a good thirty minutes. I write the lyrics for a song idea that has been brewing in my mind for a few hours. 

Yes I'm lonely wanna die  
If I ain't dead already  
Ooh girl you know the reason why

The eagle picks my eye  
The worm he licks my bone  
I feel so suicidal  
Just like Dylan's Mr. Jones  
Lonely wanna die  
If I ain't dead already  
Ooh girl you know the reason why

Black cloud crossed my mind  
Blue mist round my soul  
Feel so suicidal  
Even hate my rock 'n' roll  
Wanna die yeah wanna die  
If I ain't dead already  
Ooh girl you know the reason why

I put down my pencil and reread what I’ve just wrote. It seems so depressing. But then again, I’m depressed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all your support on this fic. i’m bringing it to a close with this short little chapter just to tie up loose ends. sorry that it’s so short lol. enjoy!

And then the next day I get out of bed.

I decide that I can’t stay in bed mourning forever. I head to the studio and present my new song, Yer Blues, to the rest of the band, and they like it, but they think we should put it on a later album. I grumble a bit, but Ringo gives me a look, and I just agree. 

One night, about three weeks after Brian’s passing, Ringo and I are alone in our hotel room, talking. Somehow the conversation gets to the topic of Brian, and I spill my guts. I tell him everything that happened. And then, in desperation, wanting to feel something, ANYTHING, I kiss him. 

The next morning I wake up naked in his arms. He’s asleep. His face is so peaceful when he’s sleeping. I rest my head on his chest and just stare up at him for awhile. And in that moment, I know everything is going to be okay.


End file.
